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Haven't Let You Out Since I Let You In

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Blaine comes dashing around the corner. He looks back over his shoulder, his white shirt soaked through and he’s panting, and Kurt thinks, fuck, who’s chasing him now? Kurt thinks it looks like water rather than slushies, that’s something.

And then Blaine looks forward and grins at Kurt, grins in that way of his that says, hey, I’m having fun, you should join me. Even Blaine’s smile is a campaign for inclusivity. Kurt’s boyfriend is ridiculous.

Kurt’s rational brain kicks in about then. Blaine’s fine. They’re fine. The park has all kind of rules and guidelines about employee rights that Kurt read over and over, tracing the words with his finger. Blaine didn’t end up working here by chance.

Sam and his gang of tiny charges appear, armed to the teeth with Super Soakers. Kurt briefly reconsiders rationality in favour of wondering if Sam has secretly been converting the kids at day activity camp into his personal minions and this is the first step in his plan for global domination. Today Six Flags, tomorrow the world!

He should probably stop watching Nickelodeon before work, and incidentally, why are there so many kids programs about evil geniuses, but then he’s spending his summer working at a theme park. It’s either good research or the music that they pipe out of the speakers hidden everywhere has finally caused his brain to rot-slash-regress to childhood.

He has no idea why he let Blaine talk him into this.

He looks over at Sam who is slam-dunking a water balloon onto Blaine’s head, the two of them laughing and the sun catching the water drops and, okay, maybe he does.

*&*

Kurt had thought Blaine was caught up in picking out whatever it was on his guitar, face screwed up in concentration because he never just googles the tabs like a normal person, he has to figure out the chords. He’s been in a rat pack phase lately, which is both better and worse than the Katy Perry phase.

That's to say, it’s a surprise when Blaine says, “So I’ve been thinking...”

Kurt can’t help jumping into the pause. “It’s probably not a good sign if you feel you have to mention that.” Blaine raises an eyebrow and laughs. Blaine likes to play, to go witticism for witticism with Kurt, but there’s always a soft edge to his laugh. It’s wonderful, and unnerving. Kurt is used to making his words a weapon, a way to deflect, not to connect.

“I have a plan to help Sam,” Blaine says. “And it has some added,” he smirks at Kurt over the top of his guitar, “Perks.”

It should not be attractive.

“Oh, because that went so well last time,” Kurt points out. “In fact, make that, oh, because your plans always go so well.” 

“You don’t get a second go round on the sarcastic comeback machine,” Blaine says. He grins over at Kurt, looking about five seconds away from sticking his tongue out. “And that’s unfair”.

“I have three words for you, Blaine Warbler-Anderson. Wait, not those three words. Gap. Store. Serenade.”

Blaine winces a little, and then makes the gesture bigger, theatrical, so that it looks faked. Kurt gets up and goes to sit next to Blaine on his bed.

He says, “You’d better tell me all about it,” with a sigh, resting his head on Blaine’s shoulder, Kurt’s way of softening the edges.

“My boss told me he’s looking for people to work at the Park,” Blaine says. “And I thought, Sam would be perfect for it, he’s so... happy looking. He was practically made to sell fun. But, he wouldn’t want to feel like it was, you know, charity. So, I thought, maybe we could sell it as a fun group thing?”

Kurt lifts his head up to eye Blaine suspiciously. “Is this going where I think it’s going?”

“You, me, Sam, maybe Mercedes? Finn if he wants. All hanging out every day, doing a number or two... And the money’s good. I asked and employees can leave their kids at the activity camp, so Sam could bring his...” Blaine makes a startled noise into Kurt’s mouth, and smushes his nose a bit, but it’s still a pretty great kiss, joy-bright and messy. Besides, Kurt would be prepared to bump noses dorkily with Blaine for the rest of his life.

“Tell me about the uniform,” he says, not moving too far from Blaine’s mouth. Just in case. “And then tell me about these quote unquote perks.”

Blaine says, “And I didn’t even get to the part where I asked you to think of the children, oh god, won’t someone please think of the children.”

The thing is, Blaine already had.

*&*
So, no, it’s not exactly a surprise that Kurt is here, in his thankfully open to interpretation uniform of a white shirt and chinos, watching Blaine advance on him, dripping menacingly. His shirt is sticking to him, translucent in places so that Kurt can see taunting areas of skin. He swallows hard and tries not to blurt out anything too inappropriate in front of Sam and his minions. He’s not sure which he’s more alarmed about accidentally corrupting.

“Oh no you don’t,” Kurt says, and retreats behind the ice cream cart. “No way.”

“Come on, Kurt,” Sam yells. “The kids nixed my idea of an ambush. Their reasoning was because you’re Kurt.”

“He does ‘breathlessly in love six-year-old’ very well, don’t you think,” Blaine says. Kurt thinks it’s more that he works shifts on the ice cream cart. The kids may be small but they aren’t stupid.

Blaine’s still got that come play smile on his face. “Baby, it’s hot outside,” he says. Then he tilts his head, in a way that adds, but if you don’t want to, it’s okay.

It’s probably going to take a while for the novelty of being known like this to wear off.

“I’ll see if I can get Luce to cover the cart,” Kurt says. Blaine whoops in triumph, coming close enough that Kurt can see the rivulets of water running from his hair down his neck. It really is kind of warm out here.

*&*

“I hate everything,” Kurt informs the sink of the staff bathroom. “You and your see-through attire are to blame for this.”

Blaine knocks again. “I’m sorry that you got sunburnt because the water washed off all of your factor billion sunblock. And I’m sorry that meant you couldn’t sleep. But it’s not that bad, really.”

“Leave me to my agony. The cold tile is my only solace,” Kurt tells him.

Blaine says, “I have aloe?” and okay, maybe Kurt doesn’t hate everything. He lets Blaine into the tiny room.

“Sorry,” Blaine says again, and then, honest to god and with apparently no shame at all, kisses the tip of Kurt’s nose.

“Oh my god,” Kurt grumbles. “You are not a real person. You probably didn’t even burn.”

Blaine undoes the top few buttons of his shirt. “If only,” he says. He presses his fingers just under his collarbone, and the pressure leaves white marks. Kurt watches as they turn back to match the rest of his skin, a hot, dull pink.

He says, “Is this how you entertain yourself, then? Making your skin change colour. Do you make special patterns? Spell out your name?”

Blaine crooks a corner of his mouth up, and trails an aloe covered fingered over Kurt’s nose.

“You know,” he says, conversationally, “this is the first time we’ve been alone in weeks.”

“No, don’t be ridiculous, we’re together all the time,” Kurt protests.

“That’s not the same thing,” Blaine says, low. He smoothes aloe over Kurt’s cheekbone.

Kurt thinks about one of Blaine’s perks, that they’d get to see each other every day. Which they do. But they see each other in Kurt’s car with Sam and Stacie and Stevie. They see each other over lunch with Mercedes and all of their other co-workers. They see each other surrounded by tiny children or the massed crowds of sighing teenagers who come to watch Blaine sing. They don’t go for coffee anymore because they work long, hard hours and besides, they don’t need to, they see each other every day.

Except not.

“Hey there,” Kurt says. “Would you like to go on a date with me?” He leans back against the sink and tries for nonchalant.

Blaine frowns, which on Blaine is a really adorably impressive facial manoeuvre. “I don’t know if you’d noticed, but we’re sort of already going out.”

Kurt waves a hand. “Obviously. But we should date. Something special, just us.”

“Oh,” Blaine says. “Oh. Okay then.” He’s still got one hand in mid-air, just a few inches from Kurt’s cheek. Kurt leans into Blaine’s palm, cool and familiar. “Turns out, asking out someone you’re already dating is kind of easy,” he says, happily.

Blaine leans forward, still cupping his cheek, and eases Kurt’s mouth open, fitting together smooth as anything. Kurt feels his lips shape a smile, and then he lets himself get lost in the slick warmth of Blaine’s mouth. They make out lazily until Kurt’s neck starts to prickle with heat from all the proximity and he has to pull away. God, he really hates sunburn.

*&*

Kurt can tell the instant Blaine spots him in the crowd. Which is pretty awesome. It’s nothing huge, but there’s a new clarity to his whole demeanour. Even when he’s not looking at Kurt, it’s like every word has a focus.

Blaine dips his head, and then looks back out over his audience from under his eyelashes. Kurt makes an involuntary noise.

“At least it’s better than the Katy Perry phase, right?” Mercedes says. Kurt puts his arm round her, because he knows she’s his best girl, but sometimes it’s nice to be reminded that they really are two peas in one very stylish pod.

“...under my skin...” Blaine croons. He loosens his collar, touches his neck briefly. Bastard.

“In a way,” Kurt says. “I’m starting to reconsider the intervention I helped David with.”

“No regrets,” Mercedes deadpans. Kurt elbows her in the ribs. Blaine bows neatly and there is, if Kurt says so himself, rapturous applause.

Blaine says, “And that’s all, folks!”

Some people make groaning noises and a girl at the front calls, “Encore!”

Blaine grins, all teeth and sincerity. “Sorry, I’ve got a hot date that I really don’t want to leave waiting.”

The crowd, as one, go, “Awwww,” which is sort of awesome. It’s not like when Rachel makes squeaky noises whenever Blaine hold his hand. No one actually knows that it’s Kurt who Blaine is going on a date. Okay, the staff probably do. Kurt may have made finding loopholes in the park’s “no employee PDAs” rule his new hobby. But everyone is just sort of sappily pleased that Blaine is, well, Blaine. 

It’s times like this that Kurt doesn’t mind sharing him quite so much. He likes to be part of the audience that Blaine is smiling at, and he likes to be the only person in it who gets the joke, knows the secret. It’s the same thrill he gets when Blaine makes his Dad laugh, or harmonises unthinkingly with Mercedes. Blaine’s too brilliant, in the truest sense of the word, not to enjoy watching him shine.

But, still, Kurt missed the quieter side of Blaine, the one that Kurt sees sometimes when Blaine sitting across the table from him, content just to be. 

“I gotta...” he starts but Mercedes just waves him away. “Yes, honey, I know. Hot date. You might have mentioned it, once or twice.”

Kurt slips through the crowd and gets backstage just in time to catch Blaine coming down the stairs from the stage. He’s flushed and a little bouncy, a bundle of kicky adrenaline.


“Well hello there,” Blaine says. “What’s a boy like you doing in a place like this?”

“Waiting to make you an offer you can’t refuse,” Kurt says, before Blaine can ask him if he comes here often. There’s cute parody and then there’s just cliché .

Blaine takes Kurt’s hand, slots their fingers together. He looks over at Kurt, and there is it, the change that maybe only Kurt can see. Real, stupid, crazy-making, love; soft-edged and sun bright.